


Choose Love

by TheUndeadPoet



Category: Life as a House (2001), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars RPF, Trainspotting (1996)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Consensual Underage Sex, Drugs, Eventual Smut, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Gay Male Character, Gay Sex, Heroin, Literary References & Allusions, M/M, Male Slash, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reincarnation, Soul Bond, Star Wars References, Substance Abuse, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex, Underage Substance Use, quotes, trainspotting quotes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-10 16:08:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6993478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUndeadPoet/pseuds/TheUndeadPoet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Long time ago, in a Galaxy Far, Far Away, there lived Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker,  soulmates who didn't get their deserved happy ending.</p><p>But not so long ago, in this Galaxy, they have a chance to meet again, reincarnated as other people.</p><p>~<br/>This is a story about Mark Renton and Sam Monroe; And why Renton chose Love.<br/>~</p><p>Will they remember their past lives? Will they remember that they once fought each other, and loved each other? Will they remember any of it at all?<br/>And will this time be any different?  -Will they get their happy ending, at last?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay guys...so I created something. I had this idea and I just had to put it in words! Please, please, please give me your feedback! As I am not so sure If this story is worth continuing or not. I wrote this at 4am and I'm so exhaustedddd. I didn't check the spelling nor the grammar, sorry about that! ~there will be a lot of Scottish slang and references of the movie Trainspotting. So please bear with me ;3; I'm in love with Mark Renton and I'm in love with Obikin... thus this story was born...Enjoy!~ And please don't forget to give me your feedback! <3

Dreaming. Mark Renton was dreaming vividly. His mind was swirling out of control, as he tried to grasp the images that twirled in front of his eyes. The twisted images of neon colours were suddenly devoured by hungry, raging flames. Blood-red sky was wrapped around the fiery land of lava. He was in hell, this must be hell.

"I hate you!"

He heard a loud scream. The voice was painfully familiar.

Guilt, regret and sorrow suffocated him. He wasn't able to breath. He saw a pair of fierce, hate-filled eyes staring at him, staring directly in his soul. He knew that man.

"..I loved you"

He breathed out beyond his will, stepping backwards and falling into a void. Then the endless sensation of falling took over his body. He wanted to scream, he wanted to escape from the nightmare, but he was paralyzed and immobile. He was falling into an abyss.

Screams, shouts and voices echoed all around.

"The boy...the chosen one"

"Be mindful of your thoughts"

"The boy you trained..."

The voices were getting louder and louder, piercing his ears, confusing him. His heart raced in his chest, his ears buzzed.

"Master! Master!"

Another voice interrupted, softer and quieter than the rest.

"..you trained, gone he is"

"this is the end for you my Master"

"...consumed-"

The soft voice got louder and louder. It was the same voice as before, but yet, It was different.

"Master!" Louder. "Master!"

"Master, wake up, Master!"

It was above all, it shushed everything else, every other whisper, every other noise.

He woke up from complete darkness, just to find himself to be once again, surrounded by darkness. It was a dream. It was just a dream. It was another weird dream.

 

His light eyelashes fluttered open, letting his eyes wander about, trying his best to make out whether he was alone or not.

Rolling his head on the side, he found the floor next to him to be empty; Sick Boy was gone. Spud was gone. He was alone. The bastards went out without him. Mark grunted, trying to lift himself off the ground with the help of his elbows. His body felt limp, but he knew what he had to do. He was sore and covered in sweat.His heart was still beating fast. What kind of smack was this?

He needed to change the dealer. Mother Superior never disappointed him...but what in the hell was this? He was confused. He had to get out, he had to suck in some fresh air and go for a drink and just...proceed with his reality; His reality, as horrible as always but still better than the dreams that he was getting. The 'Real world' didn't seem so bitter at that very moment. He had to go to the club. Find his friends. And drink his ass off. He lifted his body off the odorous ground, supporting his weight with his hands.

Then he remembered. Sicks wasn't with him when he took the hit. In fact, he hadn't seen Simon for days. God knew where Sick Boy was or what he was doing, or who he was playing around with; What scam was he up to. Mark didn't know. Mark didn't care. He did, but he didn't want to admit it. He just wanted to find Sick Boy, see Sick Boy, listen to Sick Boy talk about Sean Connery again. Or Iggy Pop, or whatever. He just needed Sick Boy to distract him, or Spud or anyone else. Hell, even Begbie. The club was perfect for a distraction. Loud music, people, It had everything.

He wasn't sure what day it was nor for how long he had been passed out, not that he cared, not that he had something important to do, or somewhere to be. Hell, he didn't even think that his so called mates were expecting him. He didn't care about anything. He wanted out.

So that's what he did. Grabbing his jacket on his way out, he paced off the apartment. It was chilly outside so he had to put it on and cover his upper body from the cool wind. His tight, yellow shirt which barely reached his navel didn't generate much warmth. None at all.

He walked down the same streets, turned around the same corridors, until he brought himself to his wanted destination. Wasting no time, he burst inside the familiar building. It was already crowded in there. The air reeked of cigarette fume, cheap colognes and perfumes mixed with sweat. Despite being used to all kinds of nauseating smells, Renton felt sickly of the atmosphere. Like he was still out of breath. Not like all of the fresh air would make any difference, but... he still needed it.

He slid pass the dancing crowd, finding very difficult to make his way to their booth where he expected to find the people he was looking for.

And there they were. Spud, with his drink, Begbie talking to some drunk bird just near their booth, and then there was Sick Boy, his arm around a woman, Mark wondered how was he able to find a different one every night to swindle....but wait, that wasn't a woman that Simon had his arm wrapped around, It was in fact, a young man, probably still a teenager.

Renton gaped.

His body froze and his eyes were fixed on this new person. The young bloke was so familiar, like he knew him from somewhere, he was sure he hadn't met him before, but he had seen him. Yes. Almost...almost like he had known him since.. since, well, forever.

" 'Ey Rents, ye gouta meet someone"

He snapped out from his thoughts, hearing Simon's voice call out for him. That damned bastard noticed that he was here. The white-haired man gestured with his free hand for Renton to join them.

"Come, sit"

And he did. Furrowing his brows, Mark sat next to Spud, opposite of Sick Boy and the oddly familiar young man. He could've sworn that he had seen those blue eyes before. And that face. And him. All of him.

The young man had short, soft, black curls, which were probably dyed black, he had a piercing below his bottom lip and both on his ears as well. His ice-coloured eyes were circled with dark eyeliner, creating a beautiful contrast. And his skin was so pale, almost as white as Sick Boy's hair. Seeing that Mark wasn't going to talk first, Simon jumped in to start the conversation by introducing the two.

"Rents, this is Sam Monroe, Sammie, this is Rents"

"It's Mark, actually"

"It's nice to meet you Mark"

The young boy who also looked kind of confused at the sight of Mark, smiled at the older man and offered him his hand across the table. Mark looked down at Sam's hand, noticing his black nail polish. He took the boy's hand into his own and gave him a quick shake. As confused as Renton was, he was also intrigued. This boy raised so many questions. First, why the hell did he look so familiar? Second, what the hell was he doing with Sick Boy? Third, why the hell was Sick Boy's arm around him, like that? And so on and so on... Judging from Sam's accent, he could tell that he was foreign. American perhaps? Yes, he did sound like an american. What was an american doing in a dump like this? Simon must be as baffled, as he was. Especially that he always came up with theories about countries, nationalities, about Scotland and America. At least he wasn't English. Not that he hated his country's colonizers, but still. He hated Scotland above everything.

"So Ah promised Sam to help him adapt to his new environment" Sick Boy grinned and Renton just stared at him.

"Why is he here?" He asked, taking Sick Boy's drink from his hand and swallowing it all up.

"Why dn't ye ask him yirself?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin never listens to Obi-Wan, no matter in what galaxy or universe they are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally managed to get the second chapter up and I really, really hope that you'll enjoy it! And please don't forget to leave your feedback, I desperately need to hear your opinion on this~<3

Renton's eyes met Sam's.His gaze reluctant as he drummed his fingers against the empty glass in front of him. He was almost certain that he would forget about the weird dreams that he was having recently the moment he would walk in the club, but now, that seemed so inconceivable; Because well, It did not happen. Oddly, Sam was like the embodiment of those strange dreams; That's what Mark thought to himself. All of those nightmares in one person. If he thought that he's life was a meaningless mess up until that day, he began to think that his life was, in fact, the messiest mess that has a meaning hidden somewhere underneath the heroin haze and that there must be more than just scoring. Being the addict that he was, he only worried about scoring. He always said to his friends that when you are on junk, your only concern is scoring. And when he tried to get off it, he wasn't motivated enough to do it for good; Because when your clean, you are suddenly obliged to worry about all sorts of things. You have to worry about bills, about food, about some football team that never fucking wins, about human relationships and all the things that really don't matter when you've got, according to Renton, a sincere and truthful junk habit. Being socially inept and passive, he never cared that he was ruining his life. He was always bored, and he had no one to be good for. All of his friends were no different. But meeting Sam was something quite unusual, curious and simply perplexing. It confused Renton. His usual pattern of horrible lifestyle and decisions ought to be broken when now, a new fascinating being was inserted in his life. Nevertheless, Mark met new people every day. He must have met at least hundreds of people. But then, why Sam? Why did Sam have such a huge impact on him? He was too afraid to answer that question for himself.

Sick Boy was aware that something was greatly bothering his friend, but instead of showing sympathy, or just being easy on him, he smirked at the younger man. The smirk that Sick Boy gave him never failed to make Mark's head spin but at the same time,It urged him to throw a punch straight in his pretty face. So there was that. And he hated it. And Simon loved it.

"Why are ye 'ere?" He finally brought himself to ask and Sam wrapped his hands around his own glass. "My mom and I moved here after my dad died" He shouted and leaned forward, closer to Mark, in order to be heard.The music got louder and the people got crazier. No one was able to hold a good conversation anymore.

Sam couldn't even hear his own voice. But Renton nodded and he assumed that his new acquaintance heard him. "But why 'ere, of all places?" Mark shouted, also leaning closer to Sam, his blue eyes peering deeply into the young man's face. "Mom remarried, I was forced to come along" Sam admitted; Dissatisfaction and disgust were written all over his expression. It was easy to tell that the boy was not fond of his new stepdad, nor his mother's decision to move to a new country. "Ah see" Mark said, pressing his back against the seat. Thinking that their conversation was over, he retreated to his own thoughts. Sam blinked, a bit offended and a bit annoyed by Mark's carelessness. Sam raised his glass and poured the yellowish liquid down his throat. Simon chuckled. 

The white-haired man pressed his lips against the young man's earlobe and spoke loudly. "Don't mind him Sammie, he's always like that" Sam who was tickled by the other's warm breath shivered but didn't pull away. "That's fine" He turned to shout a reply in Sick Boy's ear. "Ye fancy him, don't ye?" Sick Boy snickered and Sam froze, briefly glancing at Renton who was locked in his own little world and staring blankly at the empty glass in front of him. "Where did you get that idea from?" Sam chuckled and Simon shook his head. "He's hot though" The teenager said, making Sick Boy burst out in laughter. "He is indeed"

"Ah'll tell you what, don't let Begbie over there know that ye..um ye know" Sick Boy continued to chuckle, pointing at Francis Begbie who was standing not far from their booth, still talking to the same lady and moving his body awkwardly to the music. "What? No! I won't" Sam replied hurriedly, studying the strange looking, homophobic Francis Begbie that everyone feared. " But why not?" He dared to ask. "He'll kill you, that's why. Though, there was this one time when he actually made out with a man who he though that was a girl. When Rents told me about it I laughed so fucking hard.Serves him right" Sick Boy continued to chuckle and Sam had to fake a laugh. There's nothing better than knowing that your new friends, or at least some of them, would literally murder you If they find out about your sexuality.

At that moment Renton stood up. He tapped his pockets, looking for something. 

"Give me a cigarette" He demanded and Sick Boy, diving his hand in the pocket of his own trousers took out a single cigarette and handed it to Renton. "Ah'll be out" And with that he was lost in the crowd. He pushed the people that were in his way impatiently, shoving a few with his elbows as he hurriedly made his way out of the club.

Finally, air.

Feeling baffled and suffocated, Renton was slightly glad that he was out of there. He quickly lit up his cigarette and breathed in the nicotine with uneasiness, trying to calm himself down. 'Why am Ah so fucking bothered by that boy? And how the hell do Ah know him?'

Familiar images of his dream came flashing back into his mind. He saw those same eyes. Dammit, why was he so haunted by those eyes? And his grin. Why was he stuck in Mark's brain. His head began to hurt badly and his chest ached. It was almost like he was pressed in between some metal clamps that only got tighter and tighter. He paced up and down the kerb in front of the building.

'Sick Boy must be getting something from this boy. He always finds a way to benefit from every person he meets. He's young, he's handsome, oh my God, he'll make him an addict and pimp him on the street'

He halted. His face paled as much as humanly possible. 'He'll pimp Sam, that's why he's so nice to him'  
Knowing Simon's careless, amoral behaviour, Mark was sure that the young man was already tangled in Sick Boy's webs. He was a slick, promiscuous bastard who picked up anyone of his choosing with ease and manipulated with them relentlessly until he got what he wanted. He already pimped heroin addicted women, why not start pimping men? Especially when this young man was the most beautiful creature that everyone had ever seen in their whole lives. Prettier than anyone. There was no way that Sick Boy wasn't going to use that to his advantage. It was no coincidence that he was the first to befriend Sam. Oh no. Not at all. Sick Boy wasn't going to waste an opportunity to make money. And Sam, a young, good-looking, foreign, misunderstood teenager who had family problems was an easy target. Way too easy. And Sick Boy knew that. That's why he was missing for few days, no one could possibly ever find out what Simon did to catch the boy's attention. Or maybe, It was the other way around. But Mark just being himself, he couldn't really blame anyone else than his friend, even though he knew that most of the time, Sick Boy got approached and yes, people often threw themselves at him before he even realized that they existed and that he can make money out of their encounter.

After taking one long, last drag of his cigarette Mark threw it on the ground. He had to talk to Simon. But what was he going to say? Why did he care anyway?  
He didn't even care about Sick Boy pimping Alison who was his friend, why did he care about Sam who was just a stranger?

Just when he was about to head inside, he bumped into Sam. He eyed the boy curiously, realizing that he was slightly taller than him. "Sorry" Sam mumbled, stepping aside. Mark didn't say anything. He lit himself a cigarette. "You want another one?" The teenager asked and the other nodded after brief hesitation. "Yeah" Sam handed him the lighter and a cigarette from his pack.

There was silence between them as they smoke quietly, not looking at each other. Mark grew so impatient that all of a sudden he turned to the young man. "Listen 'ere Sam, you shouldn't be 'ere. You should go home and never return here. This is not for you"

Sam who was angered by Renton's abrupt outburst rolled his eyes. "Who are you tell me what I can or can't do"  
Mark was already annoyed but the boy's stubbornness. "You are too young for this shit. How old are you anyway? You're not even supposed to drink"

"Seventeen, but that doesn't concern you man" Sam was also annoyed. He thought that Mark was jealous of his closeness with Simon. "If you're jealous because of Si and I, then I don't know what to tell you" He said with a small, sarcastic chuckle. And Mark was genuinely surprised to hear that. "What? That's nonsense. There's nothing to be jealous about. If you want to be Sick Boy's bitch, that's fine by me!" 

Renton stormed off, extremely pissed off. Sam watched him disappear in the dark streets with no clue where he was headed. He stayed outside for a little while before walking back inside. He didn't say a thing to Simon about what happened with Mark. When he asked him where Renton was, Sam simply said, "He left, I don't know why"


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan is disillusioned; Being Mark Renton is difficult. 
> 
> *Contains a lot of Trainspotting quotes and references*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried something very different in this chapter, I wrote it from first p.o.v as Mark.I'm not sure If It's better this way or not, but I'd love to hear your opinion. Should I continue this way or write in 3rd person again? ~Anyways, this part contains a lot of Trainspotting quotes, so the fic isn't entirely original. I hope you don't mind that! Hope you enjoy~ Looking forward to your feedback as usual!~ <3

I woke up in my own bed in my own room. Walls covered in trains, trains and more trains. Trains in lines, in columns, organized so neatly, so perfectly in a pattern. I grunted and turned to the side. I had my one hand tucked under the pillow and the other one on top of it, as I gripped it tightly, almost hugging it. Before I realized that I was in my old room everything was fine. But when I came to my senses, everything was opposite of fine. 

Everything was far from fine. What in the world was I doing at my parents' house? I haven't been there ever since I nearly died from an overdose and got tested for AIDS. Luckily I was clean and my parents were proud. Shaking and dazed, my father drove me in a wheelchair from the hospital halls to home. That day I swore to my parents that I'll get off heroin, this time for real and I'm not sure whether they believed me or not, but they were greatly disappointed when I broke my promise and went about my own business. 

I didn't return home after that and the last time I was in my room I had the worst time of my whole life. Spud was in jail for theft and I was free, though I deserved the same fate as him. We were just informed that my friend Tommy who died few months ago had AIDS.Baby Dawn, my friend's Alison's baby died while we were on a high and all of that guilt was finally kicking in, eating me from the inside. The consciousness is a bastard. And as awful as I felt from the junk, my mind had to make up its own images and put a heavier weight on me than I already had. Hallucinations, sweating, vomiting and yelling, that's all I can remember from that day. And the guilt, all the guilt for what my friends did, not that something of the previously mentioned things was my fault, but I still felt guilty. And I swear that I can still see baby Dawn's rotting doll-like face when I close my eyes. There is nothing more atrocious and disgusting than that image. 

And now I was awake and pretty sober, I couldn't help myself not to wonder how did I get here? I looked down at myself and noticed that I was still wearing my worn out jeans and my yellow t-shirt. My converse trainers were not far from the bed and my jacket was also somewhere on the ground. 

I picked myself up and felt extremely hungry. Dammit, when you're not on junk you suddenly have the need to have decent food. I wasn't sure whether I am supposed to sneak out of my parents' house or go and greet them properly. I still wasn't able to recall any memory from the previous night, so I was completely lost and clueless of what to do. However, things solves themselves for me. 

The doorbell rang and I almost jump; the loud noise caught me off guard and made me uneasy. I really, really did not need that. I exited the room and sneaked in the hallway, trying to see who was at the door. To my big surprise, It was Simon. His big smile and perfectly white teeth were really annoying me. My mother who answered the door greeted my mate politely. I could hear them talk very clearly. 

"Is Mark 'ere?" I heard him ask her and my mother nodded. 

"Oh yeh he is. He still must be asleep. He came last night, disillusioned and angry. His father and I tried to talk to him but he went straight to bed. So we let him sleep.." My mother explained to Simon and he leaned against the door frame.

"A'right, can Ah go talk to him?" Simon asked.

"Not sure, you boys live so terribly, I don't know what to do anymore"

"He'll be fine" My friend replied and I stepped in, revealing myself to them. 

"Oh you're up!" My mother exclaimed and I nodded, she began questioning me all sorts of shit, wanting to know how I feel, where have I been living, what have I been up to. But I just didn't have the time to answer all of that, I was so impatient, I wanted to know why did Sick Boy come after me.

"I'm hungry", I just told her and I hear her sigh and mumble something angrily. I didn't care what she had to say, I was just so hungry. 

"Fine, I'll make you two sandwiches" She finally gave in and stormed off into the kitchen. Sick Boy grinned at me. 

"Rents, Rents...Ah don't know what's bothering you, but Ah do know how to make you feel better"

I raised a brow. "How?" 

He chuckled and took out his air rifle which he had hidden behind the door wall from my mother. 

"Park" He said and I smiled. Dammit, why did I smile? I was still angry at him. "Where's Sam? I thought that ye'll be with him" I blurted out, carelessly. 

"He's at school. He's a schoolboy, did you forget?" Sick Boy laughed and patted me on my shoulder. 

"He's something different. Angry and just full with passion. Just what we need Rents!" He said chuckling, obviously so content with himself. 

"You can't offer him junk, Si" I said hurriedly, immediately regretting that I abbreviated his name to only one syllable, making it sound friendly and affectionate. Fuck that, I didn't mean it. But Simon, who was extremely happy to hear that I called him that, grinned even more. 

"Oh come on Marky, don't you think I know better than that?" 

"No you don't" I answered, "and you certainly can not pimp him on the streets" I added, a bit embarrassed for saying that. I was embarrassed for caring. I never had an attachment for anyone or anything, save for drugs and shite like that. 

"First of all, before making any conclusions, ye should know that he, Sammie himself told me that he wants to be a whore, just to piss off his mother and his step father. He told me that he tried once, to piss off his father but chickened out. But now he knows that it's the right time to rebel" Sick Boy laughed while telling me this. I started at him, listening intently and in disbelief. This kid is fucked up, I thought to myself. He can't be so stupid. Why the hell would he want such a thing? "He really told you that?" As much as I didn't want to believe Simon, I believed him. The boy was so impulsive, so restless. I could easily tell that it was in his nature to do bad decisions just to anger other people. He wasn't much of a thinker, he just did things. And regretted them later. I was quite opposite of him, I always tended overthink; But found every solution in that hit. I was a perfect example of an addict. 

"Ah have no idea mate, but those are his words, not mine. And besides, he needs a good pimp. Why someone else when It can be me?" His eyes twinkled with satisfaction and joy. 

"Damn ye Simon" 

That's when my mother showed up with two packed sandwiched in her hands, she gave one to Sick Boy and one to me. 

"Ah'll be back, eventually" I told her and waked out of the house, closing the door behind me. She was angry. We walked away, munching and gorging on the sandwiches like hungry wolves. 

That day we had a typical weather, neither good nor bad. The park was arid green with few bushes here and there. Sick Boy wore his usual dark glasses and I remembered that I left mine at Swanney's.

We scanned the horizon and seeing the bushes, we gave each other a knowing look. We lay down, hidden from the rest of the world. The down side of coming off junk was that I knew I would need to mix with my friends again in a state of full consciousness. Sick Boy came off junk the same time as me, not because he wanted too, you understand, but just to annoy me, just to show me how easily he could do it, thereby downgrading my own struggle. Sneaky fucker, don't you think? And when all I wanted to so was lie along and feel sorry for myself and think about that stubborn teenager Sam, he insisted on telling me once again about his strange life theories.

He looked into the telescopic sight of his air rifle, scanning and observing the potential targets, children, prisoner, couples, gardeners and all sorts of random people. He began telling me how some celebrities fucked up their careers, or how they were sold-outs or praised for their bad movies, and shite like that.

I took the gun out of his hands. I looked through the sight and spotted a skinhead and his muscle-bound dog. Sick Boy was obsessed with Sean Connery. Jokingly, we often talked in his accent. 

"Do you shee the besht? Have you got it in you shightsh?" (Do you see the best? Have you got it in your sights?) To which I responded, "Clear enough, Moneypenny. Thish should preshent no shignificant problem" (Clear enough, Moneypenny, This should present no significant problem), I responded and shot the dog. It yelped and attacked his owner. "For a vegetarian, Rents, ye're a fucking evil shot" Sick Boy told me and I placed down the air rifle. 

"This was fun" I admitted. "But Ah still don't approve of your plans for the boy, he's a fucking teenager Simon" I had enough. 

"Why do you care so much about him? Does he mean something to ye? No? Well that's what Ah thought." 

I groaned. "Fuck ye, Simon. He does mean...something to me..how should Ah know why I care about him? Ah just want ye to live him the fuck alone" I was yelling and Simon did not expect that. 

"Come the fuck down, Rents. Sammie can decide for himself, can't he? Why do ye even bother? Ah know ye're crushing on him and he's a bufty (gay) too" Sick Boy chuckled and I got up on my feet.

"Just- just shut up" I turned to leave. 

"Where are ye going?" He asked. 

"Ah don't know" And honestly, I didn't know. I wanted to be alone with myself and think...I wanted to think. I wanted to sort my feelings and thoughts. I didn't care If Simon followed me or not. I didn't care where I would go or do, I just walked and walked. 

All of a sudden, I felt extremely hot. The sun was bothering me so much and I felt like I was suffocating again. Hot wind began to blow and I swear that I felt sand against my face, my skin. I felt like I was walking in a fucking desert. I cursed myself for forgetting to bring my sun glasses with me because the sand and dust were getting in my eyes.

I closed them for a brief moment and put my hand in front of them, shielding myself from the wind. When I opened them, I found myself amidst a desert. No streets, no cars, no people, no buildings. Nothing. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I was in a middle of a complete wasteland. I squinted my eyes and looked down at my hands and my feet. I was wearing boots and and light, white robes with extremely long and baggy sleeves. "Wh-what?" I was confused, I was devastated. This was the worst hallucination yet..but...then I remembered...I was clean. I was clean. I was sober. I was losing my mind; For sure. I looked up at the blue skies with pinkish hue and saw two suns staring at me. Like two golden eyes. I began to run, I ran and ran, sagging in the desert, my feet stomping hot, orangy sand. This was so oddly, painfully familiar. I didn't know why, I didn't know how, but I was completely sure that I had been there before. I felt sick, I could barely keep my eyes open. And suddenly I fell down, hitting the ground hard. I blacked out.

"Anakin! Anakin!"

I heard myself calling after my beloved. "Please don't do this, Anakin. Come back to the Light, Anakin! I need you, Anakin!"

-

"Rents? Wake the fuck up Rents!" I opened my eyes to see my mate Sick Boy on top of me and shaking me like crazy. There was a circle of people around us. I was back in the city, lying on the ground...wearing my same old clothes.

"Anakin.." I mumbled, subconsciously. "Where is Anakin?" I needed Anakin. At that moment I knew who Anakin was but after seeing Simon's surprised, perplexed grimace I snapped out. 

"What the fuck Rents! Who is Anakin? Are ye alright mate?" He was genuinely worried about me. I was worried about me too. I lifted myself in a sitting position with the help of my hands. 

"Ah have no idea" I said honestly. 

"Ye were mumbling that name over and over, Rents. Come on, ye should lie down. Ah'll take ye home.." He helped me get up and the crowd of people began to walk away. 

"Ah don't want to go to my parents'..." I spoke weakly.

"Our apartment then, If ye don't mind Begbie..." He said regretfully. "Please keep him away Si, please. Ah want to be alone"


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some Obikin and some Rentsam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another chapter. This one is in 3rd p.o.v. Please tell me what you think of the story so far~ feedback always appreciated and also, your ideas and suggestions are welcomed!

Night came quicker than he anticipated. 

 

Nothing was the same ever since he started having the odd dreams. But they were just dreams, vividly separated from his reality up until today, when he started hallucinating and seeing things that weren't there. Mark did not hide the truth that he was frightened by what happened to him. Sick Boy immediately took him to their shared apartment. He'd never been as worried as he was then. He helped his friend lay on the bed and locked the door. Mark fell asleep quickly and Simon didn't leave his side. He entertained himself with a book form Renton's shelf but glanced every now and then at the sleeping Mark, making sure that he was okay. 

 

When he woke up It was already dark outside. He found Sick Boy snoozing in the armchair, the book closed in his lap. Mark got up, got himself dressed and as quietly as possible, sneaked out of the apartment, leaving Sick Boy alone. Smiling to himself, he made his way to the club. He wasn't sure why he was smiling or why he was in such a good mood, but he didn't bother to question himself. His head felt lighter and he was somehow at ease. Just before he entered the club, he remembered a small fragment of his latest dream and suddenly, he knew why he was cheerful.

 

_Night fall. Soft, green grass stretching as far as the eye could see. Cool breeze chilling the warm summer's air. "Master", a familiar voice caught his attention, he turned around to meet the young man's blue gaze. "Yes, Anakin?" He heard himself reply, his voice crisp and strongly accented, not scottish but english. "We should do this more often, Master",the young man's smile grew wider, the corners of his mouth spread, revealing his white teeth. "I agree. But Anakin- you don't have to call me Master anymore. You are a Jedi knight, we are equals" to that the young man chuckled. "As much as I love calling you by your name Obi-Wan, I love Master more. It sounds more familiar, closer, warmer" He chuckled, feeling his cheeks redden. Noticing that, Anakin brought himself closer to him, his grin bigger than ever. "You can call me Master If you'd like, but not in front of the Jedi Council...they will think wrongly and accuse me for downgrading my former Padawan" Anakin couldn't hold his laugh anymore. "Oh, so you want it to be a secret? Am I allowed to call you Master when It's just the two of us? Oh that's naughty Master!" The knight giggled,aware that he went too far. But the other didn't seem to mind. The facial expression that he made only encouraged him to proceed. "Shut up Anakin, or there will be consequences" The older laughed. "I want the consequences" With not even a slight thinking, Anakin hurried to reply. And to his surprise, Obi-Wan grabbed him by his robes and pulled him into a sloppy kiss._

Mark went inside, still thinking about his recent dream. He wasn't sure what it was, nor what it meant, the only thing that he knew was that he had to find Sam. He had to see him. The night club was emptier than the previous night, but It was still relatively busy. He scanned the place with his eyes but found no trace of Sam, instead, he met Spud and Begbie in their usual booth.He ordered a drink for himself and listened to the other guys talk nonsense. Begbie complained about the last football match, while the other two drank until Begbie's words became interesting. Hours passed and Mark had had quite a lot. Not that he minded. He glanced over his shoulder and found Sam sitting with a random man by the bar, both drinking whiskey. The young man didn't look as cheerful as he was when Mark first saw him with Sick Boy. Without mumbling a single word or excusing himself, Renton sat up and left the table and went straight up to Sam.

 

Sam saw him coming and finished the remaining liquid in his glass. He tugged the empty glass in the other man's hands and walked away from him. The man lifted his arms up in protest, saying something like, 'what the hell man', but Sam didn't even turn around or acknowledged him at all. The music was extremely loud and there were people dancing and bumping into one another constantly. Following each other with their eyes, they both moved to the exit. There were no longer people in between them, separating them. Mark caught his wrist and pulled him closer. Raising a brow Sam eyed him with confusion. But it instantly changed into a knowing, flirtatious, narrowed look; Like he was expecting this. "What do you want?" The teenager asked. "Aren't you gonna tell me that I'm too young to be here or that I'm too young to drink? Or something like that?" The raven-haired man continued. Nevertheless, instead of getting a verbal reply, Sam was pulled into a lustful, impatient kiss. Renton held him by the small of his back with his one hand while he had his other one on the boy's cheek. Sam was taken aback by this unexpected action. However, he was too drunk to get angry or protest. He liked it. It was electrifying and just perfect. He began to kiss back and the small, hurried kiss turned into something different. Soon they began to devour each other's lips, suckling, biting and moaning inside one another's mouth. They kissed so eagerly and so hungrily, It seemed that the most delicious things that they both had ever tasted was the other's lips.

 

"Your place", Renton pulled away. He had Sam's warm breath pant against his skin. "Okay" The teenager replied, trying to catch his breath. They were both drunk and reeked of alcohol and cigarettes. The heroin robbed Mark of his sex drive, but now that he was off it, his body craved physical touch. And the drunken teenager seemed the perfect partner. If the sober Mark could see this, he would not just beat himself with a stick but he would chastise his own actions and scold himself for taking advantage of a drunken teenager.

 

"Come on" Sam took Mark by his hand and dragged him out of the night club before anyone of them changed their mind. Raising his arm, Sam flagged a taxi and they both jumped inside. The young man told the taxi driver his address and was pulled by Renton into yet another kiss. They wolfed each other's lips while the taxi driver sighed to himself and drove through the dark streets, knowing how their night would end.

 

 


End file.
